Operation: RING-POP
by apageinabook
Summary: A ring-pop is stolen and Hoagie P. Gilligan is on the case, dragging his calm and collected partner Abigail Lincoln along for the ride. But when familiar faces get involved in the hullabaloo surrounding the missing sugary jewelry, jealousy starts interfering with their investigation and their friendships. A 2/5 story, with some one-sided 5/Henrietta.


**AN** : First of my fics of any sort to be published on FF! I had this account for years and never used it but I figured a longer fic like this deserved a nice, formal home instead of the messy set-up of my tumblr. :P

Abby, Hoagie, and all their friends and classmates are in the fifth grade during this story, as it takes place the year after Nigel joins the G:KND.

I don't own Codename: Kids Next Door (I just really wish I did), and pretty much all the characters and locations in this story belong to the wonderful Mr. Warbuton. Ring pops are a product of The Topps Company, Inc.

* * *

Operation: R.I.N.G.-P.O.P.

Robbery

Involving

Nice-looking

Girls

Puts

Out

Preteens

* * *

"Numbuh 5 can't _believe_ all the junk the janitor keeps in here. Who saves a bunch of baking soda and vinegar from a science fair project?"

Hoagie Gilligan turns in his office chair to look at the dark-haired girl peering into an industrial sized mop-bucket filled with red and orange foam.

"And who actually makes volcanoes for those things anymore?" she asks, leaning back from the bucket and into the chair behind her. The fluorescent bulbs in the janitor's closet flicker out, casting her sharp features into darkness before regaining their pale yellow light with a steady hum. She closes her eyes and sinks down in her seat, crossing her arms behind her head.

It's peaceful with everybody else at lunch, and Hoagie almost feels like he could settle in for a nap when there's a loud knock at the door. Before he can get out of his chair Abby is up and turning the knob.

Muffy Jenkins is standing outside the doorway, sniffling into a wadded up tissue.

"Oh Hoagie!" she sobs, stumbling forward to throw herself on his desk. "I need your help in a big way! I got nowhere else to turn!" She rests her forehead on the pine surface and curls both arms around the crown of her head, crying onto the desk.

"Slow down Muffy," he starts, standing up to offer her his seat. "You gotta tell me what's going on before I can help you." He can see Abby over the crying girl's shoulders, rolling her eyes up at the ceiling.

Muffy sits down, tearing at bits of the tissue with her clenched fists before nodding. "It's just awful– somebody stole my brand-new blurpleberry ring-pop while I was presenting at the science fair this morning!"

That gets Abby's attention pretty quickly. Her eyebrows furrow over the bridge of her nose and she rests a hand on Muffy's shoulder.

"Now hold on– how many sugar cubes are we talkin' about here?"

"Twe-twenty five! It cost me a whole month's allowance!" Muffy wails loudly before bursting back into tears, and Abby steps away from her to stand by Hoagie's left side. They exchange a quick glance and he nods, placing his hand on the same shoulder Abby's hand had recently vacated.

"Don't cry, doll," he says. "We'll take your case."

"Y-you will?"

"Sure! With Gilligan and Lincoln on the case, you'll have your ring-pop back before the final bell ends."

"Oh thank you, thank you Hoagie!"

His vision is suddenly blocked by a wave of sweet-smelling chestnut hair and his face heats up when she winds her arms around his waist. He can hear Abby muttering something under her breath as the hug lasts longer and longer, until she pulls Muffy away by the crook of her elbow and starts pushing her toward the open doorway.

"Alright Jenkins, thanks for stopping by- we'll be in touch," she says in one short breath, shutting the wooden door in Muffy's face once she's over the threshold. She spins around to face the far wall so quickly that her thick braid cracks through the air like a whip.

"Boy, what exactly makes you think 'Lincoln' is gonna help you?"

He frowns, drawing his eyebrows together under his goggles. She's been acting a little weird lately but this surliness is new; usually she loves candy-hunting adventures.

"Come on Numbuh 5, nobody knows candy like you do!"

Abby crosses her arms over her skinny chest and leans one shoulder against a filing cabinet. She makes a sound that seems suspiciously dismissive and his face gets hot again— a different, less enjoyable kind of heat.

"You get to wear a hooool-sterrrr," he offers in a sing-song voice, watching her shoulders hunch up near her ears. She doesn't respond and he feels something weird in his gut start twisting.

"Please Abby?" he continues softly. "I could really use your help on this case."

Finally she turns to face him, her dark eyes hidden below the brim of her cap. She shuffles her feet and sticks her hands in the pockets of her blue jersey, fiddling with the tags on the inside of the shirt.

"Well… okay. But Numbuh 5's not wearin' one of those stupid detective hats."

She starts to smirk and he grins back, his cheeks stretching out to show his big, square teeth.

"Deal. Suit up Lincoln- we've got a case to solve."

* * *

The post-lunch rush is dwindling down when Joe Balooka starts his afternoon patrol, veering around a group of laughing girls to step directly in Hoagie's path.

"You know the rules Gilligan- no civilians in the hall once the bell's gone off." He glances at Abby, raising an eyebrow when he notices the matchstick shooter in the holster under her armpit.

"That means you too Lincoln. No pass, get to class. Unless you _want_ to end up in detention 'til the end of the month."

"Close your head Joe," Hoagie says, flicking the yellow sash hanging across Joe's torso with the back of his pointer finger. "We're on a case. Lookin' for Muffy Jenkins' missing ring-pop— know anything about it?"

Joe bats his hand away and pulls a lollipop from his jacket pocket. He tugs the wrapper off with his teeth and pitches the crinkly cellophane into a nearby garbage bin.

"I do not."

"You sure about that Joey?" Abby asks, reaching over to pluck the cherry-flavored candy from his hand. "It happened on _your_ watch."

"You stow it, Lincoln—I put up with enough lip from your boyfriend and I _don't_ need any from _you_."

"H-hey, she's not my—" Hoagie starts before Abby cuts him off with a quick hand wave.

"If you don't know anything, it doesn't do you any harm to have a few more pairs of ears and eyes in the hall now does it?"

The head monitor scoffs, watching the pilfered candy disappear into her mouth with a 'pop'.

"Fine. But don't get in any trouble— I don't wanna have to write a report when you two end up stuffed in a locker somewhere."

She smiles around the candy, the paper stick jutting out between two rows of perfectly straight teeth.

"Thanks Joe. We owe you one."

"I'll remember that, Lincoln."

Joe turns on his heel, waving one hand in a two-finger farewell. He reaches the end of the hall, rounds the far corner, and then he's gone.

"Man, he's a bigger pain in the butt than Spankulot," Abby snorts, turning to face the boy at her side. He's red in the face and fidgeting with his goggles with one hand but he stops when he realizes she's looking at him.

"I guess we'd better start looking around," he says, straightening his back and marching toward a row of grey-green lockers.

Abby starts to follow, but stops when she sees something move out of the corner of her eye. She spins around and darts forward to grab the person hiding in the shadows of the side hallway, yanking on a forearm and pulling the figure out into the dim lights of the main hallway. A pair of cold blue eyes stare out from under pale bangs and she steps back to look their owner in the face.

" _Heine_? What are you doin' out here? And… what the heck happened to your shirt?"

"Mein gott," the young German groans, pulling at the hem of her blouse to inspect the red stains covering most of the fabric. "Is it really that bad? Somebody's volcano exploded during the science fair and it got on everything."

"No no, it's not that bad. I'm sure your momma'll probably be able to get it out." Abby steps forward to look closer at the stains, running a reassuring hand over the fabric covering her friend's shoulder.

"Lovely as you are," Hoagie interrupts, stepping around to Henrietta's other side and laying a hand on her other shoulder. "And tragic as the loss of your shirt is, you oughta tell us what you're doing out of class before you get in trouble, toots."

Henrietta blinks, as if noticing Hoagie standing next to them for the first time, and dips her head in a brief greeting.

"I was in the bathroom, Herr 2. I had to spend the whole luncheon hour getting the gunk out of meine hair. I was on my way back to the gym when I heard you talking about a missing ring. It has been stolen, ja? I can help you find it."

"I don't know," Abby says slowly. "You got a record already, girl. If Joe catches you out here you could get in a lotta trouble."

"Please, Abigail—I want to help, und I know I can. I still have so much to make up for."

Hoagie squeezes the hand resting on her shoulder gently, nodding his head in agreement.

"I think we should let her come with us Numbuh 5— she's a wise head."

"Danke, Herr 2. What do you say Abby? I will only come if you think it is alright."

Abby is caught under both of their gazes, two pairs of bright blue eyes focused on the middle of her face. She deliberates for a while, pulling the now bare lollipop stick from her mouth and sticking it behind her ear.

"Well… alright. You can come. But you gotta be careful—you can't afford any more trouble Heine."

"Oh, thank you, thank you Abby!"

Henrietta sweeps her friend into a tight embrace, burying her pointy nose in Abby's collarbone. The hug doesn't last very long, but something about it makes Hoagie's stomach start to tie itself in knots. He stamps down the irrational and sudden urge to jam a yardstick between them.

"Come on," Henrietta says, pulling back from the hug but leaving one arm slung around Abby's shoulders. "We have got ein ring to find!"

* * *

"School's almost over and we've looked everywhere Numbuh 5! We're never gonna be able to find the ring once the perp gets out of here for the day! This is hopeless…"

Hoagie slumps against the wall and braces his shoulder against a row of lockers. Abby isn't paying him much attention; she's too busy inspecting a nearby water fountain covered in a fuzzy layer of mold and fungi. Henrietta is standing behind her and looking over Abby's shoulder at him. One thin, cotton-clad arm is wrapped loosely around the middle of Abby's blue jersey and he gives her the meanest stink-eye he can manage under his tinted goggles. She hasn't left Abby's side for the last half hour and she's starting to wear on his last nerve.

"There's gotta be somewhere we haven't checked yet." Abby mutters, breaking away from Henrietta to absentmindedly pace in a small circle. "There's something we're missing."

"Henrietta von Marzipan?"

Abby's braid swings in an arc when she stops suddenly to watch Joe Balooka make his way down the hall as quickly as he can without breaking the school ban on running.

"Ja?"

"I got a search warrant with your name on it. We received an anonymous tip that says _you're_ the one who stole the twenty five sugar cube ring-pop."

"What!?" she exclaims. "That is absurd, I would never—I mean…" She looks at Abby, her bubblegum-colored lips pressing into a thin line. "Not anymore."

"If you've got nothin' to hide than I guess you wouldn't mind showing me your locker," Joe says, biting into the tootsie pop rolling around in his cheek.

"I guess I would not," she replies slowly, the blood boiling in her face. "Herr Balooka."

Henrietta's locker is in the same hallway they're already in, between the AV supply room and the water fountain. It doesn't take long to reach the dented row of metal cabinets with Joe leading the rag-tag group. He inspects the bare handle with amusement and grins around the lollipop in his mouth.

"You don't got a lock, von Marzipan?"

"I do not see the point in having eine lock when I have nothing of value in mein locker. Besides—the latch usually sticks when anyone tries to open it besides me."

"We'll see about that."

Joe raps the metal door twice above and below the handle and tugs on the latch. The metal creaks and groans but swings open, the inside of the locker hidden in mid-afternoon shadows. He pulls a penlight keychain out of his pocket and clicks it on, sweeping the pale blue light along the bottom of the locker. It comes to rest on a royal blue step-cut sugar crystal impaled on a red plastic ring.

"'Nothin' of value', 'ey von Marzipan?"

The shackles barely make any noise when he pulls them from his jacket and clasps them around Henrietta's wrists. Her face has turned from a dull pink to a pale, sickly white, and her hands are shaking against the cold metal.

"But I did not steal anything! This is ein outrage! I have been _framed_!"

"Tell it to the principal."

"Now hold on Joe," Abby says, stepping between her friend and the hall monitor. "This has gotta be a mistake—Heine wouldn't do somethin' like this."

"Lincoln, your friend has stolen a baker's dozen's worth of candy artifacts. She once stole a class pet just so she could turn it into chocolate and _eat_ it. You really think you can tell me she didn't do it when the evidence is sittin' in front of us, clear as day?"

"But she's changed! You know that Balooka!"

He frowns and pulls the candy-less stick from his mouth to gesture at the operatives in front of him.

"I do not know nothin' of the sort. All I got is you two's words against the cold hard facts of the matter, and that ain't enough to convince me of nothin'." He shoves the stick back in his mouth and grabs the cuffs at the chains, dragging Henrietta forward a few steps.

"Come on von Marzipan—you're gonna be spendin' every afternoon in detention from now until the end of the semester."

Joe pulls on the cuffs until she starts to follow him down the hall, looking sadly over her shoulder at her friend.

"Abigail, you have to believe me—I am innocent!"

"Don't worry Heine," she shouts at Henrietta's retreating from. "I'm gonna find out who set you up and get you outta there!" She waves until they turn a corner, then she spins around to glare at Hoagie. He's frowning at the back of Joe's trench coat like it's the most difficult crossword puzzle in the Sunday paper.

"And some help you are 'detective'— you didn't say anything that whole time!"

"Hey! What was I supposed to do? You know I can't fight Joe about anything; I'm not on the squad anymore Numbuh 5."

"Hmph."

She turns on her heel and grabs his arm, dragging him down the hall that leads to the gymnasium.

"Doesn't matter now. We gotta find Mrs. Johnson and prove that Heine didn't do it."

* * *

Mrs. Johnson's fifth grade science class is one of the hardest courses to get into at Gallagher Elementary—not because it's a difficult course with high expectations, but because _everybody_ wants to be in it. Kids spend forty five minutes every day doing experiments, unless it's the day of the school science fair. Mrs. Johnson hosts the fair every year in the school gym, and anybody can submit a project to present from the start of the fair at the beginning of the first class until the whole thing ends at lunch around noon.

It's the last period of the day but her class is still cleaning up in the gym full of discarded paper, broken bits of plastic containers, and brightly colored foam. The plump, middle-aged woman is standing in a red-stained dress on the lowest bench of the bleachers, directing her students through a megaphone.

"That's good Patton, just move the table back up against the wall, I—Lunk, you put Oliver down this instant young man!"

Hoagie waves to the drill sergeant, skirts around the robber holding the crayon-obsessed nerd by his collar, and sidles up to the science teacher, coughing loudly into his hand when she doesn't look up from her clipboard.

"Oh! Hoagie Gilligan, what a surprise," she drawls in her pleasant Wisconsin accent. "I haven't seen you since your mother hosted that wonderful book club meeting last month. And Abby Lincoln! Well you're a sight for sore eyes— how's that littlest niece of yours doing?"

"She's fine Mrs. Johnson, just started walking," Abby replies smoothly, stopping next to the teacher on her other side. "Actually, we were wondering if you could help us with something. We need to talk to somebody who can tell us if Henrietta von Marzipan was here all morning."

"Well I'm afraid I can't help you two there—I was so busy trying to keep Nick and Chip from setting their lemon and potato battery on fire that I only saw her for a few minutes. You'll need to talk to her lab partner if you wanna know that—he's right over there by the ball rack."

She turns around to look at the students near the far door and raises her megaphone suddenly, shouting into the plastic mouthpiece. "Valerie Louvel, you'd better not be trying to take Lance's blue ribbon again—"

While she crosses the room to yell at her honor students, Abby and Hoagie make their way to the ball rack, where a red-haired boy in a brown jacket is sweeping a fluffy pile of foam into a garbage bag. He turns when Hoagie taps his shoulder, pushing his mirrored sunglasses up on his forehead to smirk at the two detectives.

"If you came to check out the fair you're a couple hours late. I thought that two of the best operatives the Kids Next Door has would be better at being on-time for this kind of thing."

"Ha!" a shrill voice chimes in from a nearby table. "Whoever told you Hoagie Gilligan was one of our best operatives musta been hitting the sauce one too many times, Alazraqui."

Fanny Fulbright steps around her table to snatch the garbage from Ace's hands and stomp away to the cluster of garbage bins in the middle of the gym, dragging the bag behind her on the floor.

"So," the pilot continues, turning back to the duo. "What can I do for my good friend Hoagie and his stunning companion on this fine afternoon?"

"Keep the flattery to yourself Ace—Numbuh 5 and I need to ask you a few questions."

"Who's flattering somebody? I wasn't aware that I couldn't give a pretty girl a compliment now and then. You're looking great today by the way, Lincoln."

She smirks and he shifts his glasses back down onto his nose before leaning against the rack. The pilot pulls a basketball off the metal frame and starts bouncing it with one hand, shoving the other one into the pocket of his bomber jacket. Hoagie is frowning again, staring at the shock of blond hair sticking up from the middle of Ace's forehead. There's a blob of foam on the tip of the light patch and it's slowly trickling down to meet his hairline.

"Okay, so shoot. What d'you need to ask me?"

"You're Heine's lab partner, right? Can you tell us if she was here all morning?"

"Henrietta? Yeah, she was here for the whole fair. She designed our project—foamed saccharides with protein inclusions. She was real proud, wanted to show off her baby to the rest of the school."

He pulls a wax-paper-wrapped square from his pocket and tosses it to Abby.

"Peanut brittle making experiment. We were a big hit; everybody came by to get a piece."

"And there wasn't any point where she left your table?" Hoagie asks, breaking off a chunk of the brittle between Abby's hands.

"Not that I know of. There was about five minutes when I went to the bathroom and she was alone at our table, but she was here when I left, and she was here when I got back."

"Can you think of anybody who can tell us if Heine was here the whole time?"

He switches the ball to his other hand and thinks for a few seconds before replying.

"Yeah—Fulbright was working at the table next to ours. She can probably tell you if she was here the whole time."

"Tell you if _who_ was here the whole time?"

Fanny is walking back toward them, lugging an oversized dustpan on her narrow shoulders. She stops next to Ace and drops the pan at his feet before shaking an errant glob of red foam out of her curly hair.

"Henrietta von Marzipan," Hoagie replies, licking the sugar and peanut crumbs off his fingers. "Ace says you were here all morning—did you see her leave when he wasn't here?"

"Nah, she was here the whole time. Unlike my good for nothing partner, Henrietta actually _shows up_ when she has to be somewhere."

The two other operatives exchange a surprised glance while Ace turns around to begin sweeping a pile of cracked plastic shards into the dustbin.

"Who's your partner, Numbuh 86?" Abby asks suspiciously, popping a piece of the brittle into her mouth.

"Muffy Jenkins. That airhead never shows up on time for anything anymore—she didn't get here until third period, and then she left before it was over! I had to run our lab all by myself _and_ I got hit right in the face with foam when Egg Boy's _stupid_ volcano erupted!"

"Muffy told us her ring-pop was stolen while she was presenting today," Abby offers, passing the rest of the brittle to the boy at her side.

"Ha! Must've been a quick thief—she was barely here!"

Incensed, Fanny grabs the now-full dustbin and stomps away angrily, pushing Wilson Woodrow aside as she makes her way back to the garbage pails.

"You thinkin' what Numbuh 5 is thinkin'?"

Hoagie finishes the chunk of brittle in his mouth, grinding the hardened sugar to a dusty pulp between his molars.

"I'm thinkin' Jenkins' shirt was lookin' pretty clean for somebody who was supposed to have been at the fair all day. She fed us a line and we fell for it—hook, line, and sinker."

* * *

The final class of the day is almost over when Muffy knocks on the door to the janitor's closet in the east hall. The note in her pocket is already crumpled, covered in Hoagie's loopy scrawl. _'I know who took your ring-pop—come to my office.'_

"Hoagie? I got your message."

There's only one light on in the office, a bare bulb hanging a foot below the ceiling from a fraying electrical wire. The closet is shrouded in darkness except for the small, empty patch of floor illuminated by the lone bulb, and Muffy closes the door behind her after slipping into the room.

"Gilligan, you can't tell me where my ring is if you don't come out and talk to me."

"Oh, I think you know exactly where your ring is, doll-face."

He steps out of the shadows, crunching the last piece of brittle between his teeth.

"Why'd ya do it Muffy? Von Marzipan never did nothin' to you."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." She shifts her feet uneasily, looking between one side of the darkened room and the other rapidly.

"Sure you do. You set her up— planted the ring in her locker, tipped off the Safety Patrol, and played me and my partner like fiddles."

"You ain't got no proof, Gilligan," she says slowly, drawing the syllables out like taught strings. "It's your word against mine, and we both know how much your word is worth in these halls."

"I'm not interested in proof, Jenkins. I just wanna know why you did it— what made you stoop so low?"

"You really wanna know?" she asks, stepping forward into the patch of yellow light. "Fine. I'll tell you." Her hand slips behind her back and she pulls a rubber band shooter from the back pocket of her shorts, leveling the muzzle at his head.

"I was sick and tired of the perfect Henrietta von Marzipan and her ' _uh-maze-ing'_ experiments— they're nothing but glorified recipes for crying out loud!" She cocks the band on her gun, sliding it back to rest around the trigger.

"She waltzes in all pretty and funny and charming and suddenly I'm yesterday's news, y'see? I can't even get Ace to _look_ in my general direction since she showed up. So I set her up—it ain't that hard to jimmy open a stuck locker with a hairpin. She takes the fall for stealing my ring and gets thrown in detention, and I get to sit next to Alazraqui at Lime Ricky's every weekday afternoon from now until summer."

Muffy walks forward, bringing the barrel of the shooter closer to his forehead with every step. He backs up until his heels hit one of the filing cabinets on the edge of the room. His back is against the wall and he's got nowhere to turn now that Muffy is holding a gun to his head.

"I would think you of all people would sympathize with me, Hoagie; I see the way Lincoln looks at her. I see the way you look at Lincoln too."

He holds his breath, inching his hand closer to the water pistol in his holster and she keeps walking toward him, pressing her thumb to the back of the trigger.

"It's a shame really—together, we could have pulled off the perfect crime. Too bad I have to send you back home full of rubber."

Hoagie braces himself against the cabinet, prepared for the biting sting of the elastic projectiles when the office door bangs open and the Hall Squad storms into the room, led by Joe Balooka and his water balloon launcher.

"Put the gun down Jenkins. You're under arrest for fraud, defamation of character, and obstruction of justice—and you _don't_ wanna add assault and battery to that list."

"Like heck I don't," Muffy shouts, turning away from Hoagie to look down the barrel of Joe's gun. "If I'm going down, I'm taking Gilligan down with me." She turns back to Hoagie, but before she can push down on the trigger the blunt ends of a dozen matchsticks bean her in the back of the head. She stumbles forward and Hoagie sidesteps her, letting her fall headfirst into the filing cabinet.

Joe rushes over to cuff her and Hoagie turns around to face his savior, a young girl blowing smoke off the end of her weapon. She smirks, flipping up the brim of her hat with her fingers to wink at the pilot.

"Sorry about taking so long Numbuh 2—Joey wanted to wait for the right moment to bust in."

The officer in question hauls Muffy to her feet, frog-marching her to the door.

"Let me go Balooka! Do you know who I am? I was an honor student for three semesters straight! My daddy is on the PTA board! I'll have your badge for this!"

Her irate screams get fainter when he passes her off to several other monitors in exchange for a still tethered Henrietta. He unlocks the shackles on her wrists with a small metal key and pushes her forward into Abby's open arms.

"Oh Abigail!" she exclaims, winding her arms around her friend's waist. "I knew you would do it! You are meine heldin."

There's a wet smacking sound and Henrietta pulls back from the embrace, a bright pink lip print marring Abby's smooth cheek.

"Okay, okay, that's enough," Hoagie interrupts. His heart is beating against his rib cage like a trapped bird and he wishes that Henrietta was somewhere else, that _he_ was somewhere else so he wouldn't have to look at the lipstick stain on Abby's face. "Save that mushy junk for some other time."

Henrietta frowns, stepping away from the duo to stand in the open doorway. She screws up her face and holds her arms akimbo before speaking again.

"You know this is getting ridiculous, ja? I am fed up to here with the two of you going around in circles."

Joe coughs loudly into his fist, edging around the irritated German and into the hall. Henrietta rubs the mark off Abby's cheek before grabbing both of Abby's hands between her own, her fingers going white at the knuckles.

"Abigail, you know I only want you to be happy. Ich liebe dich, but I cannot do this anymore."

She turns on Hoagie, grabbing one of his wrists and pulling him forward to stand next to his fellow operative.

"Herr 2— for such a smart boy you can be very dense, but I believe you will figure it out someday." Henrietta smiles enigmatically, the corners of her eyes crinkling with the movement. "And if you hurt Abigail, I promise I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your days."

Hoagie swallows gravely and nods at her. "You know I wouldn't do anything to hurt her Henrietta."

"Good! I have faith in you Hoagie—do not disappoint me."

The ex-thief places his hand on top of Abby's, curling his fingers around the back of his teammate's palm. Abby isn't looking at his face but she's smiling slightly, a faint red tint spreading across the bridge of her nose.

"Hey Henrietta, you ready to head out to Lime Ricky's?"

They turn to face the newcomer standing behind her, a boy in a leather jacket and dark sunglasses. He salutes with two fingers, pushing his glasses up into his red hair.

"Ja, Ace. I think we are all done here."

She turns away from the operatives, gently elbowing the pilot when he loops his arm through hers.

"As I remember, you promised to introduce me to eine freundin of your acquaintance over a bottle of seltzer— on your tab, of course."

"Hey, would I lie to you?"

Henrietta looks back over her shoulder as they walk away, waving her free hand in an enthusiastic farewell.

"Auf wiedersehen, meine liebchen! I will see you in homeroom tomorrow!"

The lab partners continue speaking playfully, the sound of their chatter carrying over to the two operatives. They are alone in the office now, and Abby hasn't pulled her hand away yet. Hoagie doesn't want to let it go, so he doesn't. She tugs him back to his desk and sits on the vandalized wood surface, dragging him around to sit beside her.

He tells a joke, something terrible and unfunny that makes her snap the back of his goggles against his skull, but she's still smiling when he leans away to look at her so he figures it couldn't have been _that_ bad of a pun. She says something about wanting a soda so he pulls her off the desk and into the empty hallway. The lights are slowly being turned off by a janitor, who is whistling a soft tune somewhere nearby, and the AV club is watching a movie in their supply closet; the flickering lights and crackling audio of a worn-out VHS tape seep out through the crack under the door and follow them down the hall.

There's an old vending machine by the front entrance of the school, a vending machine so old that if the buttons are pressed in the right order it will spit out cans of soda instead of juice. Hoagie enters a code and bangs on the front of the machine until it dispenses a root beer, still cold and covered in a thin film of water. Abby laughs and cracks the can open with one hand when he passes it to her, spraying the pent-up fizz on the front of her friend's shirt.

He lets go of her hand then, content to chase her out of the school and back to the treehouse. It starts to rain halfway there and she slows down, letting him catch up to her on the sidewalk. He's too nervous to try to hold her hand again so she slips her fingers between his instead.

The rain seeps into their clothes and she rests her cheek on his shoulder, smiling when she sees the skin below his goggles turn a blotchy red color. The clouds darken the sky prematurely and despite the chilly April weather it almost feels like it could be summer.


End file.
